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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423257">Until The Sun Sets (I'll Be By Your Side)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keshna13/pseuds/Keshna13'>Keshna13</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Literally just season 1 because in this house we don't acknowledge anything else, Slow Burn Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, clarke can't sleep</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 02:54:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26423257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keshna13/pseuds/Keshna13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy was different. Bellamy was too alive to slip unnoticed into her close inner circle. There was too much fire and tension between them to allow for something as mundane as dependence. She still wasn’t sure where she stood with him. Some days it seemed like they were on the same side and the next day they were shouting at each other from a mile wide chasm, both equally unwilling to compromise. </p><p>She didn’t want to be dependent on Bellamy Blake. Being dependent on him seemed to her to be not only a weakness but a concession. How could they be equals in the field when he knew all her flaws?</p><p>or: Clarke can't sleep and Bellamy notices.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, John Murphy/Raven Reyes, Monty Green/Nathan Miller, Octavia Blake/Lincoln</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a super old piece that I started writing just after the first season aired but I thought I'd dust it off in honour of the absolute dog's breakfast that He Who Must Not Be Named has turned the 100 into. Consider this a rewrite lol. In this version everyone important stays alive and we shall acknowledge the CLEAR AND UNMISTAKABLE connection between Bellamy and Clarke. In the words of the immortal Dido, I will go down with this ship. F U J Roth.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke couldn’t remember when sleep changed from being a necessity to a luxury. At first, she’d been vaguely impressed with herself for still functioning on two hours a night. But now, she was stuck in the terrible limbo of desperately wanting to sleep but being unable to.</p><p>Sometimes it was because every delinquent at camp had to see Clarke right now or instant death would occur. Other times she felt a rush of self-loathing so strong that she’d take on extra shifts on the wall at night to prevent sleep, punishing herself for Wells and Charlotte and her father.</p><p>She had a bed now. Bellamy had thrown a fit after walking in on her sleeping propped up against the dropship wall one too many times and had enlisted Miller to cut a wooden frame for her which was covered in a fur that Octavia had gotten off Lincoln.</p><p>While she appreciated the effort, nowadays even if she managed to reach her tent and collapse onto her bed, she could never go to sleep. The ghosts kept her awake, the endless ‘what ifs’ that played through her mind, offering an alternative to all of the people that had died. What if she’d shown Charlotte more kindness? What if she hadn’t abandoned Wells to Murphy’s hands? Even when she closed her eyes, she saw their faces.</p><p>Her insomnia couldn’t fail to be noticed throughout the camp. People tended to avoid Clarke – her once sharp but well-meant humour had dissolved into an acidic whiplash that threatened to verbally burn anyone who got on the wrong side of her. Three days ago she’d managed to make a thirteen year old cry when she came in to the dropship with news of her first period. Clarke had told her brutally that there was nothing to be done, she just had to bear it, and now she was old enough to bear children so she should watch out for the boys. The girl had spent the last three days refusing to leave her tent and insisting on a female friend to stay with her at all times. It spoke volumes that Octavia had been employed to stay the girl’s fears – Octavia was about as good at comforting as Clarke was at sleeping.</p><p>To be fair, the news that the girl’s cycles had started had added a new concern to Clarke’s ever growing list – before they’d left for the ground, Clarke had discovered that the girls had all been injected with tabs to control and protect against pregnancy. The fact that their use seemed to be running out – proven by more and more girls notifying her of their returning cycles – meant that Clarke would soon have to issue an awkward health and safety warning to all of the sexually active teenagers on camp. God knows they couldn’t put up with a baby in this mess.</p><p>Her other concerns were more mundane. Winter was coming, and it became clearer every day that they needed to be well prepared – yesterday the camp had woken up to something Jasper called ‘frost’, which encrusted everything in a thin layer of ice. Thankfully, the ice had melted by midmorning, but it was a stark reminder of the coming chill. Food was becoming harder to come by, and the meat the hunting parties did manage to bring in was wasted and scrawny. The other obvious problem was warmth  - Clarke highly doubted the dropships capabilities to house seventy rowdy, sexually frustrated teenagers for three months without at least half of the delinquents cracking and going mad.</p><p>But her biggest problem was sitting right in front of her looking up at her with that annoying pouty, I’m-a-puppy-dog-you-just-brutally-kicked face. She regarded him with a cool glare.</p><p>“Bellamy I swear to god, if you keep getting hurt I’m confining you to the dropship for the next month.”</p><p>“It wasn’t my fault,” he rumbled.</p><p>He would have sounded mournful had that been an emotion that Bellamy Blake associated with – instead he just sounded sullen and moody.</p><p>“Oh?” She made a show of threading the bone needle in front of him in a vain effort to inspire a bit of healthy nervousness about the prospect of getting stiches in his leg. Bellamy regarded her contemptuously as if to say <em>Really? You really think a needle is going to scare me?</em></p><p>“Monroe missed the shot and the boar came straight through.”</p><p>“Oh, so now you’re blaming this on Monroe?” She snorted. “Since when does the mighty Bellamy Blake blame other’s for his own mistakes?”</p><p>“Since said mistakes land him in your company.”</p><p>Bellamy had been one of the only delinquents to greet Clarke’s growing irritation and acerbic conversation with a fierce competition. In fact, Bellamy was the only one who didn’t seem affected by Clarke’s growing notoriety. If anything, he seemed thrilled that he was finally getting a chance to stretch his considerable intellect to something more unusual than just issuing orders.</p><p>He grunted slightly as Clarke punctured the skin around his wound. It was a flesh wound luckily. In a rare show of tact, Clarke didn’t point out that had the boar scraped a couple of inches to the left and about half an inch downwards it would have sliced through Bellamy’s artery and he would have died on the way back to camp. She had a feeling Bellamy already knew. Indeed, he seemed a little more shaken up this time around than he had previously. He played it off well, but Clarke suspected the shock might have finally gotten to Bellamy.</p><p>They sat in stillness, Clarke bending over her co-leaders leg while he watched the needle go in and out with a kind of agonized fascination. Once she’d finished threading, she tugged the thread rather harder than was necessary, eliciting a couple of choice cuss words from Bellamy, and tied off.</p><p>“Alright, you know the game. No strenuous activities, nothing that would tear the stitches, keep away from anything that looks vaguely infectious and wash your hands with Moonshine before you touch it.”</p><p>Bellamy regarded her with a bored gaze.</p><p>“By strenuous you mean hunting right?” She turned away from him, rolling her eyes as she washed her hands and the equipment with moonshine.</p><p>“Because I’m just wondering who is going to take up a hunting party while I’m out of action?” His voice was cutting, sarcastic. She could feel that he was gearing up for a fight. Bellamy hated to be told he couldn’t do something.</p><p>“Miller’s capable-” she started, but Bellamy cut across her almost immediately, as she knew he would.</p><p>“You put him on wall duty last week – he’s the only senior one out there. You can’t take him away from his post.” Clarke blew out a frustrated sigh and turned back to Bellamy who was refusing to look away from her, pinning her to place. She dried her hands on her pants, noticing vaguely how thin the material was. She doubted they would last another month.</p><p>“Monroe then.” Bellamy gave a small ‘huh’ and shook his head in what appeared to be disbelief.</p><p>“I’m not done with Monroe. She needs to practice target shots – the boar was less than ten metres away, it was a clear kill. You can’t put someone who can’t aim to save her life as leader of a hunting party.” Clarke rubbed her arm unconsciously. The long cut she’d sustained last week from accidentally brushing against an exposed piece of wire on her way up to the wall was giving her trouble.</p><p>“What about one of your cronies?” She and Bellamy both knew that his ‘cronies’ were Clarke’s last suggestion. Bellamy barely concealed a satisfied smirk.</p><p>“I don’t trust them, and you sure as hell don’t. They’re all like Murphy - they’ll only do what I say as long as I’m standing over them.” Clarke sniffed disdainfully, knowing that Bellamy thought he’d won this round.</p><p>“Ok.” She drew strength from an unknown reserve and tried desperately to make her tired mind work. “Ok.”</p><p>“We take Miller off wall duty – Monroe can take over from him, she’s senior enough – Miller can take charge of the hunting party. And when you’re better – <em>when you’re better</em> – you can take Monroe out for target practice and <em>when I say</em> you can rejoin the hunt.”</p><p>Bellamy looked at her mulishly. She smiled tightly, hoping she’d found an airtight solution. He grunted, apparently seeing no loopholes for him to walk through.</p><p>“So what do I do at camp then?” She knew he was only asking her so he could argue with her answer.</p><p>“Bedrest.” He smirked, and she turned away, embarrassed at the term and hating Bellamy for turning it into something sexual.  “And I mean bedrest. Fucking is a strenuous activity. If I see any girl go in there I’m putting a guard on the door until you’re better.”</p><p>Bellamy smirked again, this time not bothering to conceal it.</p><p>“The Brave Princess is jealous.” He pushed himself off the bed and pulled his pants up, grunting slightly in pain. “Doesn’t suit you.”</p><p>He limped out of the dropship, leaving Clarke glaring after him.</p><p> </p><p>*          *          *</p><p> </p><p>“MIRA COME BACK INSIDE!”</p><p>The camp was woken the next day by Clarke’s urgent shout.</p><p>Mira was an adventurous fourteen year old who, Clarke was convinced, was out to kill herself and Clarke into the bargain with her constant dangerous activities.</p><p>Clarke had been walking around before dawn, trying to get a fire started with damp wood. The dry wood was stored in the dropship, but after finding Bellamy trying to help with the wall efforts late last afternoon Clarke had confined him to the dropship, just like she said she would, and she had no desire to go in and wake up her co-leader, who was currently impersonating an angry, hungry bear that had been hit on the head about ten times.</p><p>Just as she’d started to get some smoke she’d looked up and seen the gate move slightly, and then watched in horror as Mira slipped outside.</p><p>“Mira! Mira don’t go out there!” she’d called softly at first, not wanting to wake the whole camp, running towards the gate.</p><p>“Mira! <em>Mira!</em>” She’d thrown open the gate to see Mira’s retreating back. Ever since Octavia had discovered the butterfly clearing, several younger girls had been on the hunt to find anything beautiful and out of the ordinary. There had been great fuss when Mira’s friend Lili brought in the glowing white moth, and Mira, competitive as always, had been trying ever since to trump Lili’s find. Clarke knew that’s what Mira was doing; she just wished the girl would turn around.</p><p>Clarke was about to follow the younger girl outside when a Grounder horn blew and her blood froze.</p><p>“MIRA COME BACK INSIDE!”</p><p>There were a flurry of noises as the delinquents collectively seemed to rouse themselves – Clarke could vaguely hear stamping of feet from the steel inside the dropship as the few sleeping inside hurried to find the source of the commotion.</p><p>Clarke darted along the fence, grabbed one of Bellamy’s guns he’d left with the sleeping guard, and without a second thought for her own well being, sprinted out of the camp.</p><p>Mira was only about ten metres in front of Clarke when the Grounders appeared. She could see them either side of her path, daring her to go forward.</p><p>“Mira!” She called again, and this time, the girl did turn around. Clarke stopped.</p><p>The girl’s eyes were closed, and Clarke realized that the reason Mira wasn’t responding to Clarke’s calls was because she was sleep walking.</p><p>Clarke didn’t know what to do. She knew that if Mira woke she would have a panic attack when she found herself in the middle of the wilderness with three Grounders surrounding her. It was common knowledge that you shouldn’t wake up a sleepwalker. But Clarke didn’t see any other option.</p><p>Frozen in place, she stared at the Grounders as they started advancing towards the young girl, openly taunting Clarke to take a shot. They seemed to realize that if Clarke shot to kill them, Mira would wake, potentially jeopardizing her safety.</p><p>Clarke could hear faint shouts from the dropship and realized that if she was going to make a move, it had to be now.</p><p>She aimed her gun.</p><p> </p><p>*          *          *</p><p> </p><p>Bellamy heard the gun go off, and then a high pitched scream.</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>He grabbed his gun and limped as fast as he could towards the gate, easily passing through the crowd of scared and confused teenagers.</p><p>“Miller, Murphy, with me.” They flanked him as he jogged awkwardly out of camp, yelling over his shoulder at Jasper to keep the rest of the camp inside.</p><p>Another gunshot sounded, cracking the early morning quiet. Dawn light was just filtering through the trees, but the ground was still dark and they had to work to keep from falling over.</p><p>The scene they came upon froze Bellamy’s heart and all three stopped for a split second, trying to make sense of what they saw in front of them.</p><p>Clarke was standing with her gun pointing at a Grounder who had his arm wrapped around a hyperventilating Mira, a knife at her throat. Tears were streaming down the girls face and she looked utterly disorientated. Bellamy saw two other Grounders lying on the forest floor, oozing blood.</p><p>He held up his hand to stay Murphy and Miller. None of the occupants on the ground had seen or heard them approach. As quietly as he could, Bellamy made his way around the clearing, coming to a stop slightly behind the Grounder.</p><p>Clarke still hadn’t seen him.</p><p>He frowned, trying to find a way out of the situation that will keep both Clarke and Mira safe. Mira was flush against the Grounder, meaning that if Bellamy shots the Grounder in the back at this close range the bullet would probably go through and hit Mira. He needed some way to separate the two.</p><p>But then Mira made an unexpected move. The Grounder grunted in pain as she slammed her boot into his knee, momentarily crippling her captive. He leaned over her, the knife still at her throat, but this time she pulled his knife hand down and bit into his flesh. The Grounder howled with pain and spun away, the knife catching Mira across the face, and quick as thought Bellamy punched the trigger, rattling off a shot before he can second guess himself.</p><p>But when the Grounder fell to the ground Bellamy could see another gun shot through his forehead, and looked up to see Clarke, who had abandoned her own gun and was running towards Mira. Murphy and Miller followed – Miller’s gun was up while he scanned the perimeter, and Murphy, with classic cruelness, fell onto the dead Grounders, wasting bullets by making sure the three are all actually dead.</p><p>Bellamy was at Mira’s side in an instant, covering the small girl with his own jacket while Clarke ripped the bottom of her shirt off and tried to stem the bleeding. Mira’s sobs were muffled into Clarke’s chest as the older girl pulled her into a tight hug.</p><p>“Shhhh. Shhhh you’re ok now. You’re okay now.” She met his eye over the top of Mira’s head and Bellamy could see everything she hasn’t said in her gaze.</p><p>She reached around Mira’s shoulder and grasped Bellamy’s shoulder. Warmth spread from her touch even through his clothes and he was ready to kill Murphy with his own gun when the delinquent comes over to the three and Clarke quickly let go as though she’d been burned.</p><p> </p><p>*          *          *</p><p> </p><p>Bellamy had decided, ever since they’d landed on earth, that he’d probably die in battle – the terrain, the Grounders, the harsh weather – all of the horrors earth had to offer rebelled against any of its people dying of old age.</p><p>But recently, and especially today, he’d realized that he’d die of frustration. And Clarke would be the one to kill him.</p><p>She was still in a foul mood – he’d thought the incident with Mira might have softened her a little. Indeed, she seemed to be quite maternal with the younger girl for a day or two after – she decided that Mira should sleep in the dropship, and her friends should join her. Bellamy knew this was only for Mira’s safety, but the girl and her friends seemed to think, naively, that this meant that Clarke was now one of their best friends. It took three hours of them following her around until she finally snapped, pulling the bandages that Mira was carrying for her out of the younger girls hands and telling her to go and make herself useful somewhere else because she wasn’t helping Clarke.</p><p>The whole camp saw the altercation, saw Mira’s face, so delicately happy after the incident, fall, saw her friends shoot scared looks at Clarke’s hard face, then scurry away, pulling Mira and her crumpling face with them.</p><p>Bellamy had seen it all from the wall, where he had been standing with Miller discussing guard shifts. They’d both lapsed into silence when they’d heard Clarke’s raised voice. As Clarke stomped away into the dropship, he heard Miller sigh and turned slightly to see his friend shake his head slightly.</p><p>“She’s not getting any better.”</p><p>He looked back at the red curtain flapping at the entrance of the dropship.</p><p>“I’ll talk to her.”</p><p>He could feel the fury mounting as he jogged after Mira, consoled her with some whispered words, tried to make her laugh. He couldn’t ignore the whispers and glares sent towards the dropship, and turning back to Mira he tasked her friends with making her feel better and told them to go and see Harper, who was good at fixing Clarke’s emotional messes.  Then he marched over to the dropship and burst through the hanging curtains, ready to give her a piece of his fury.</p><p> </p><p>*          *          *</p><p> </p><p>Clarke had taken refuge on the third floor of the dropship.</p><p>It had been four days since she’d slept at all. Every time she closed her eyes she saw Mira’s face when the first gunshot went off, and how the younger girl had looked at her and thought she was the enemy. Clarke knew Mira had been disorientated, but the fear that had flashed in her eyes when she’d focused on Clarke’s gun was a harsh reflection of the monster Clarke knew she’d become.</p><p>The three bodies of the Grounders were testament to that.</p><p>She sniffed, furious at herself for her rampant self-pity, furious that she’d managed to make Mira cry, furious that she’d shown weakness to Bellamy.</p><p>She wished that Wells was still alive. She wished that she’d known that he wasn’t responsible for her father’s death. She had imagined them leaving the camp behind and going off to make a life for themselves. Of course, they couldn’t now. Like it or not, Clarke was a leader – her stubbornness and conscience to help her people had established that from the day the dropship landed. And of course it would never happen now, because Wells was six feet under.</p><p>The slam of the hatch opening dragged her from her thoughts and she scrubbed a hand across her face quickly before whomever was coming up could see the tears on her cheeks. She busied herself with the bandages, sorting them into piles.</p><p>“What the <em>hell</em> was that?” Her head snapped up and of course if was Bellamy, standing over her, looking absolutely furious. Good. She wanted a fight. It would take her mind off things.</p><p>“What the hell was what?” She knew what he was talking about.</p><p>“You know exactly what I’m talking about Princess! I knew you were frigid but even I didn’t see you as someone who would make a girl cry.” Ok that hurt.</p><p>“Shut up Bellamy. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” She knew that shutting him down was never going to work – they were both a stubborn as a dog with a bone.</p><p>“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Furiously, she sniffed, knowing that her tears wouldn’t move a muscle in Bellamy’s heart, knowing that and still unable to stem them.</p><p>“I didn’t mean to!” Her voice sounds torn, broken. She doesn’t look over her shoulder, gripping a bandage so hard that she was sure she was tearing the delicate material.</p><p>But Bellamy wasn’t having it. She could hear his harsh footsteps as he stamped over to her, and then his hand landed on her shoulder and he pulled her around roughly to face him.</p><p>He recoiled slightly when he caught sight of her face, wet with sudden tears. She sniffed and harshly scrubbed her hands over her face, rubbing her face dry with the rolled bandage. She hated the look of disgust that flitted across his face.</p><p>“Tears aren’t gonna get you out of this mess, Princess.” She hated him. Taking a step back from him, she shook his hand off her shoulder, glaring up at him out of her red-rimmed eyes.</p><p>She sniffed again, taking another step and accidentally slamming into the table behind her. She grimaced at the sharp pain that burned the back of her thighs. Abby had told her time and time again that sensitive skin and nerve inflammation was a sign of chronic fatigue, and it was more evident than ever now. Clarke hadn’t even slammed into the table very hard and she already knew she’d have bruises.</p><p>“Are you here because you want something from me or did you just want to yell at me?” She tried to inject some venom into her voice but failed miserably, ending up just sounding bored. Perhaps that was why Bellamy glared at her with such ferocity.</p><p>“The next time you make someone cry <em>Princess</em>, I’m putting you on lockdown up here and you’re not coming out until you’ve apologized, understood?” He spat the nickname like it was a bullet from a gun, looked almost satisfied when she flinched. </p><p>Clarke mustered an ounce of strength to shove Bellamy back.</p><p>“Since when are you in charge of me, asshole?”</p><p>“Since you stopped being in charge of yourself.” The blunt, prompt reply floored her for a second. Bellamy was still glaring at her but there was something shadowed in his gaze that brought her up short. In a second of sharp perception unusual in this new Clarke, she saw that he was angry with her because he was so bewildered at how she was acting. She could see his confusion behind his gaze and a piercing slice of pain shot through her heart.</p><p>She realized that she felt...she felt was he was feeling.</p><p>Seeing through his eyes she could imagine what she’d feel like if her co-leader suddenly stopped responding, suddenly started to be someone else. Clarke saw all this in a split second, but then her headache returned with a vengeance and she had to close her eyes to ensure she didn’t faint. It was like her tired, abused body had allowed her a moment of crystal clarity before reminding her of the state she was in and pulling her back into the shadows.</p><p>“Just leave me alone, Bellamy.” She opened her eyes again to see him open his mouth, frowning, obviously intending to say something. “Please.”</p><p>It was this softly whispered plea of desperation that pulled Bellamy up short, and unable to respond due to the ball that had suddenly taken up residence in his throat, he swung around and marched to the hatch, swinging himself down the ladder and disappearing from Clarke’s sight.</p><p>Letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been keeping, she sagged against the table, and finally let the tears run down her cheeks unchecked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Clarke?” Harper’s tentative voice broke through Clarke’s reverie.</p>
<p>She was in the dropship, carefully dividing up the herbs that had been delivered that morning by one of the delinquents she hadn’t managed to scare off yet.</p>
<p>“Mmm?”</p>
<p>“The lookouts say that there’s a hunting party coming back. It looks like someone’s wounded.”</p>
<p>“Ok.” Clarke went back to sorting out the seaweed.</p>
<p>“<em>Clarke?</em>”</p>
<p>She swung around at the urgency of Harper’s tone, now unconcealed.</p>
<p>“Aren’t you going to do something about it?”</p>
<p>Harper stared at her friend and leader and tried to rationalize the intense change that had come across Clarke in the week since she and Bellamy had fought. The fight had been public, only because the dropship didn’t hold sound in all that well and everyone had wanted to hear Bellamy lose his shit, so the camp had been uncharacteristically quiet as soon as Bellamy followed Clarke into the dropship after she’d snapped at Mira. Despite this, only snippets of the argument could be heard, and all of it was Bellamy’s raised voice. Compared to him, Clarke had been a mere whisper in the wind.</p>
<p>But afterwards, hours after Bellamy had emerged, positively fuming, when everyone was gearing up towards sleeping, Clarke had finally stumbled out, past the red tarp, and Harper, waiting for her friend, had seen the bleakness on her face. </p>
<p>Since then, Clarke had just got worst. She spent all of her time in the dropship and rarely went out of the camps gates. Harper knew she never slept in her bed in the tent because Harper was the one who went to check on her every hour or so, sitting hunched in the dropship, staring unfocused at a pile of bandages, or some herbs.</p>
<p>Mercifully, the moonshine remained untouched, something Harper counted as a small blessing, having firsthand experience with the negativity of alcoholism. But still, Clarke had changed drastically, and not for the better. And if she was honest with herself, Harper seemed to be the only one who cared.</p>
<p>Monty and Jasper watched from afar with wide eyes and cautious steps, while Miller stayed on his wall brooding, and Bellamy threw himself into hunting parties and raids, trying to find something that would help the delinquents last through winter followed faithfully out into the wilderness by Octavia, though Harper privately thought this had more to do with a certain Grounder than it did sibling loyalty.</p>
<p>Raven still wasn’t back from a scouting trip she’d taken with one of the boys to try and find some more materials for the radio she was trying to assemble, and Fox was always too feeble and scared to say anything that might get her into trouble with Bellamy. So Harper was on her own, and seemed to be the only one who was witnessing the extent of Clarke’s breakdown.</p>
<p>“Do something about what?” Clarke’s eyes were unfocused and she seemed so groggy that Harper doubted she could do much but just sit and stare at something. She was surprised that Clarke still had energy to sort herbs.</p>
<p>“The hunting party Clarke. Someone’s been wounded, we need your help.” Harper stepped forward, tucked her hands under Clarke’s arms and pulled her friend into a standing position. Clarke blinked at her, swaying slightly, but still upright.</p>
<p>“Come on, let’s get you a drink of water, you need to wake up Clarke.”</p>
<p>Harper utilized a whole bucket to wake Clarke up, justifying her rough treatment with the thought of Bellamy, the leader of the hunting party, coming back to find the only healer in the camp nearly comatose from exhaustion. Subsequently, by the time Clarke was conscious, she was also soaking wet and shivering.</p>
<p>A horn sounded from the lookout station and the gates opened.</p>
<p>Harper took a deep breath, still supporting Clarke, and braced herself for the worst.</p>
<p>Clarke watched, dread stealing over her heart, as the hunting party burst into camp, heavily armed and wide eyed. She searched slowly for Bellamy, and by the time alarm had flared to life in her dormant heart he had stepped forward out of the crowd, looking left and right, obviously searching for someone.</p>
<p>“CLARKE!” At first Clarke didn’t connect the bellow that echoed around camp, more a bull’s roar with its chords of fear and exhaustion and frustration, with her co-leader. But then she saw his mouth snap shut and he began to advance on her and she finally realized what he was carrying in his arms.</p>
<p>It was Octavia. And she didn’t look good.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*          *          *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ok. I need boiling water, some bandages and I need someone to go and put this knife in the coals until it’s red.”</p>
<p>Bellamy was pacing like a caged bear, his eyes never leaving his sister’s body. His heart was beating incredibly fast, adrenalin running through his veins, and he couldn’t keep still. Finally, Clarke turned to him, teeth gritted slightly and it was a shock to him to see that she could still muster up enough energy to glare at him.</p>
<p>“You need to leave Bellamy. The dropship is too cramped, I can’t hear myself think with you breathing down my neck.”</p>
<p>“Go fuck yourself, Clarke.” He could feel the silent judgment emanating from Harper, who was standing at the end of the operating table, cradling Octavia’s head in her hands.</p>
<p>“Don’t talk to her like that.” She said finally, glaring at him because Clarke couldn’t, not while she was bent over the wound in Octavia’s side.</p>
<p>Bellamy didn’t reply, already lost in another bout of self-hatred, going over again what he had done wrong, how he could have fixed it. The Grounder spear had come out of nowhere, he hadn’t seen it, he’d been too busy telling Hardy off for holding his gun the wrong way. But Octavia had seen it – Octavia had pushed him out of the way and taken the spear instead. And Bellamy heard, as he fell, his mother’s words in his ears. <em>Your sister. Your responsibility. </em></p>
<p>“Okay, Harper, Monty I need you to hold her down while I cauterize the wound.”</p>
<p>Octavia bucked wildly while Clarke applied the white-hot knife to the edges of the spear wound, but she remained unconscious, a sign that was worrying Clarke. She was worried that Octavia had lost too much blood, and that, despite her best efforts, it was too late. Of course, she loved Octavia, but it was the thought of Bellamy’s reaction that kept her going now, running off an empty tank of gas. Harper kept glancing at her friend out of the corner of her eye, noticing how faded she was, wondering how she kept going despite her total exhaustion.</p>
<p>Jasper burst into the dropship, holding a dripping bunch of river weed, his hair askew, goggles around his neck, panting. At once Bellamy snatched it from him and thrust it at Clarke, who took one look at the new offering and told Jasper to go and grab a flaming stick from the fire.</p>
<p>“What the fuck are you doing Clarke?” Bellamy asked furiously as Clarke began to stitch up Octavia’s wound. “We aren’t adding to a sample of dried herbs here, we’re trying to save my sister’s life.”</p>
<p>“Actually, <em>I’m</em> saving her life, <em>you’re</em> making it more difficult. If you’d just <em>leave</em>...”</p>
<p>But Bellamy was already shaking his head.</p>
<p>“Not a chance Clarke. There’s no way I’m leaving her alone with you, you’re a hazard to everyone here.” For a moment there was silence in the dropship as Clarke paused in her stitches and stared at Bellamy blankly. There was no remorse in his expression, only fierce loyalty to Octavia and the conviction that he was right. Hell, he wasn’t even looking at Clarke – she wasn’t worthy even of his notice. Taking a deep breath that somehow left her more breathless, she bent her head again and completed the row of stitches just as Jasper arrived with the torch, clutching the river weed in his hand.</p>
<p>Jasper handed her the torch, which she used to light the bundle of weeds. The fire took a minute to take, and she was acutely aware of Bellamy’s silent judgment. He seemed to think that a moment not physically working over Octavia was a moment wasted. The dropship fell silent as she wafted the smoke created underneath Octavia’s nose. For a moment nothing happened. And then Octavia opened her eyes.</p>
<p>Clarke doused the river weed and the burning stick in a nearby bucket of water and stepped back as Bellamy rushed past, nearly bowling her over, to grab Octavia’s hand, to tell her how much he loved her and how sorry he was. Monty stroked Octavia’s hair slightly and Jasper charged out of the dropship yelling “She’s alive! She’s alive!”, to be greeted by uproarious cheers and applause.</p>
<p>So it was only Harper who was watching Clarke as the girl stepped back into the shadows and slid quietly down the wall of the dropship. No one listened as Harper cried out and started towards her friend and no one saw as Clarke keeled over and landed, unconscious, on the floor.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*          *          *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The world was blurry and bright.</p>
<p>Clarke blinked again, willing everything to make sense, but blackness lurked at the edges of her vision and she shut her eyes, trying to avoid the headache that seemed to be waiting at the sides of her temples.</p>
<p>“You’re awake, then.” That voice was familiar, somehow. Clarke struggled for a moment to formulate a word, forcing her lips to open.</p>
<p>“Raven?”</p>
<p>There was a snort.</p>
<p>“Who else would be nursing you at two in the bloody morning?”</p>
<p>Clarke tried to smile but she found she couldn’t, so she opted for squeezing the hand she’d just noticed was wound through her own.</p>
<p>“Octav-,” her voice failed her half way through the word and she prayed that Raven would be able to follow what she meant.</p>
<p>“She’s fine. She’s sleeping well and she ate something earlier today which is apparently, or so Harper tells me, a ‘good sign’.”</p>
<p>Even though Clarke couldn’t see, she could imagine that quotation marks that Raven was making with her free hand.</p>
<p>Her next question was harder to formulate.</p>
<p>“Bell-” this time it was Raven who cut her off.</p>
<p>“He’s not left Octavia’s side and to be frank with you I don’t really give a shit what he’s doing right now.”</p>
<p>Clarke thought all of this over.</p>
<p>“How long?”</p>
<p>“You’ve been unconscious for two days, and a fat lot of good it’s done to you.” And now, it seemed that Raven had reached the place she had been working up to since Clarke woke up.</p>
<p>“I’ve been gone all of three weeks and suddenly everything’s gone to shit? Look at you Clarke! I don’t care what anyone says about you chucking temper tantrums and terrorizing little girls, you’re not well. Did you even stitch that cut on your arm? Harper had to do it but she’s still worried because she thinks it looks infected and so do I because it’s white Clarke, white and yellow and pink and it looks gross.” She paused for a moment, but Clarke didn’t speak, sensing there was more to come. “And you’ve got bruises all over you and your face is a mess, you look like someone gave you two black eyes. What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>And Clarke could only say two words, but they were really the two words where her problems started.</p>
<p>“Can’t sleep.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*          *          *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When he saw Raven come marching over the campsite with a purposeful gleam in her eye Bellamy felt a sinking feeling in his gut.</p>
<p>“This can’t be good.” He muttered to Miller, who grunted and walked off quickly. Bellamy knew Miller was somehow scared of Raven. Although, looking at her advancing on him he couldn’t help but see why.</p>
<p>“What do you want?” He asked brusquely when she came to a stop in front of him.</p>
<p>She shot him a glare and Bellamy knew he wasn’t forgiven for the loss of the radio.</p>
<p>“What happened between you and Clarke?” He rolled his eyes, feigning exhaustion.</p>
<p>“Nothing happened between us, Raven.”</p>
<p>She crossed her arms.</p>
<p>“Really. Because from what Harper says you’ve been a little bitch to Clarke for weeks.”</p>
<p>Bellamy snorted. Raven remained still, glaring at him.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, I fail to see what’s so funny.”</p>
<p>It was Bellamy’s turn to glare now.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t laughing.”</p>
<p>“Frankly Blake, I don’t really care. I just want to know why you’re acting like a complete fuckwit around Clarke. She saved your sister’s life.”</p>
<p>“I know.” He ground out, still glaring at Raven.</p>
<p>“So I want a favour.”</p>
<p>He recoiled, staring at her with an expression akin to the one he might use if she’d just shot Octavia.</p>
<p>“What the hell Raven? A favour? Why? It’s Clarke's job to treat patients I don’t have to fucking repay her.”</p>
<p>“Blake, where is all this negativity coming from? Because from what I can tell, Clarke lost her shit at a whiny fourteen-year-old and now everyone’s acting like she shot her in the face, when actually, she saved the brat’s life.”</p>
<p>Bellamy glared at her. He knew that she’d keep pushing unless he relented and gave her this fucking favour she wanted so badly and he wasn’t willing to tell her the true reason as to why he was so angry with Clarke.</p>
<p>“Fine. What do you want?”</p>
<p>“I’m going out with Mattu because I’ve found a bunker and I think there’s some stuff in there that I can use for a radio. It’s about three days away from here so I’ll be gone for a week.”</p>
<p>“And? Do you want me to write you a goodbye card?”</p>
<p>Raven gave him a withering glance.</p>
<p>“I need you to look after Clarke.”</p>
<p>Bellamy choked.</p>
<p>“<em>What?</em>”</p>
<p>Raven looked at him like she thought he was stupid.</p>
<p>“I. Need. You. To. Look. After. Clarke.”</p>
<p>“I heard you the first time, Reyes.” Bellamy muttered. “I’m just confused as to why you would possibly want me looking after her? Why not Harper or Monty or Jasper or-”</p>
<p>“It has to be you. She wakes up every hour or so and I know you don’t really sleep so you’ll be able to look after her all the time. Also, she needs protecting from herself. You’re the only person I know that can look after her without being tempted to do as she says. She’s very good at getting people to do what she wants, Bellamy. You’re the only person in the campsite other than me that’s immune to her.”</p>
<p>Bellamy stared at the short, determined girl next to him.</p>
<p>“She’s been sleeping most of the day, Reyes. I doubt she’s a danger to herself.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know that. I’m taking every precaution I can. She can’t look after herself, Blake. She thinks she’s okay but she’s not, you know that. I <em>know </em>you know that. I need you to promise me that you’ll help me. Without Clarke, your sister would be dead. Remember that.”</p>
<p>Bellamy sighed, looking into Raven’s brown eyes.</p>
<p>“Fine. But only for a week. And I still think you’re being over cautious. But I’ll do it.”</p>
<p>Raven smiled sweetly at him and began to walk away. Before he had time to properly digest what he’d agreed to do, she called out again.</p>
<p>“Oh! You’ll need to move into the dropship with her to keep an eye on her. I set her up on the third level.” Bellamy swore under his breath and went to find Miller.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*          *          *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Dude, Clarke’s smarter than Raven’s giving her credit for. Surely she knows she has to rest, she’s not stupid.” Miller was roasting the haunch of the deer that Monroe had shot earlier that day, bringing it in with great fanfare and dumping it at Bellamy’s feet with an accompanying glare. She hadn’t taken Bellamy’s well-meant shooting lessons at all graciously, preferring instead to spend the time pointing out what Erys had done that made it impossible to shoot the charging boar that resulted in Bellamy’s leg injury.</p>
<p>“That’s what I said to Raven.” Bellamy’s reply was muffled over the cup of moonshine he had bargained off Monty. Well, when he said bargained he really just went over and threatened to end the black market tent that Monty and Jasper had set up near the back of the camp. In return he’d been offered a lifetime’s supply of moonshine, accompanied by Jasper’s best smile.</p>
<p>“Is she setting off now?”</p>
<p>“She left an hour ago.” Miller shot Bellamy a look.</p>
<p>“So...” Bellamy glared at the dropship. Specifically, Miller following his gaze, the third floor of the dropship.</p>
<p>“So what, Miller?”</p>
<p>Miller adjusted his beanie and then pulled himself up, dusting off his pants.</p>
<p>“You better move your bedroll into the dropship.” Bellamy was already regretting telling Miller everything that Raven ordered of him.</p>
<p>“She’ll be fine by herself.” He grumbled eventually, also getting to his feet.</p>
<p>Miller shrugged, but Bellamy noticed Harper staring at him from across the camp and cursed softly. He should have known Raven would have left informants.</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Clarke woke to the sound of the hatch opening and struggled into a sitting position, her shirt rucked up around her waist, realizing for the first time that her pants and jacket had been removed by Raven. Silently she drew the orange blanket around her and watched as Bellamy came into view. Next to a fully clothed Bellamy, Clarke felt vulnerable without her pants on, like she was chained to her bed. Cursing Raven, she pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and watched Bellamy owlishly as he threw what looked like a bedroll on the floor near the hatch.</p>
<p>“I’m sleeping here with you.”</p>
<p>Clarke nearly choked.</p>
<p>“Are you serious Bellamy? I’m fine, I don’t need you to look after me.” She glared at him, acutely aware that last time they spoke she was nearly hysterical. Bellamy stared down at her, his face expressionless, giving nothing away.</p>
<p>“What gives you the impression I’m looking after you?” he said eventually, dropping to a crouch and releasing the seatbelt holding his blankets and stuffed mattress together.</p>
<p>Clarke glared at him, becoming tenser.</p>
<p>“Because you sure as hell wouldn’t sleep up here with me for shits and gigs. Did Raven put you up to this?”</p>
<p>“What if she did?” Clarke let out an inward sigh of relief. If Bellamy didn’t want to be here, if he’d been forced to be on watch duty by Raven, it would be so much easier to convince him to leave.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize you were Raven’s bitch, Bellamy, I thought you were made of stronger stuff than that.” She watched him closely to see how her words would take effect. His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking, and she held her breath, hoping he’d blow up and storm out. To her disappointment he seemed to pull himself together.</p>
<p>“I’m doing this as a favour.” He started to undo his boots and Clarke felt panic rise in her throat. She couldn’t sleep here with Bellamy a few feet away, couldn’t close her eyes for fear of the nightmares returning, in case he realized how weak she actually was. Clarke couldn’t afford for anyone to find out what little grip she had on her sanity. She needed everyone to think she was fine, but that wasn’t going to work if Bellamy was sleeping near her. She knew for a fact that he was a light sleeper. He’d wake up the instant she cried out.</p>
<p>“I didn’t realize that you owed Raven a favour.” Bellamy looked up quickly, noted the set of Clarke’s shoulders, the tight grip she had on her blankets. Maybe Raven was right. Maybe something was wrong.</p>
<p>“I don’t. She’s decided that I owe you for saving Octavia’s life.” He regarded her carefully, not quite comfortable enough in his new surroundings to take off his jacket yet. He felt almost as though Clarke was a ticking bomb, and if he said the wrong thing she’d go off. But through his uncertainty, he knew he wasn’t imagining the small flicker of triumph that flared in Clarke’s blue eyes.</p>
<p>“Well, I helped Octavia because she’s my friend, because that’s what I do as a healer, so you don’t owe me anything Bellamy Blake.”</p>
<p>Bellamy swore softly, realizing too late that what Raven had said about Clarke’s powers of persuasion hadn’t been complete bullshit. He decided that the best course of action would be to simply ignore Clarke and go to sleep. The more he interacted with her the more shit she had on him to use as manipulation.</p>
<p>Clarke witnessed the removal of the jacket with a sinking heart. Everyone knew that Bellamy and his jacket shared an almost religious bond, and when he took it off, he intended to stay close to it.</p>
<p>She sunk down slowly in the makeshift mattress that Raven had made her against the wall, parallel to where Bellamy had set up his bedroll. She pulled the orange blanket close up around her shoulders and tucked it under her chin, staring at Bellamy with rapt concentration.</p>
<p>Bellamy, for his part, seemed to hate the intensity of her attention, and burrowed under his own blanket, rolling over to face the other way. Clarke relaxed slightly, reasoning that at least now he wouldn’t realize how long she stayed awake for, not if he couldn’t see her.</p>
<p>And so the waiting game began.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>*          *          *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was past midnight when Bellamy woke, startled, feeling almost as though some delinquent had pushed him into the narrow fjord they’d discovered on one of their hunting trips. He shifted slightly, rolling over to warm up the other side of his body, to press his cool cheek to his warm pillow and...froze.</p>
<p>Clarke’s eyes glinted in the dim torchlight emanating from the makeshift lantern Raven had rigged quickly before she’d left, and Bellamy somehow knew for certain that Clarke hadn’t slept yet. She was in exactly the same position he’d seen her in before he’d drifted off to sleep, down to each muscle tensed in her shoulders.</p>
<p>They lay regarding eachother for what felt like hours before Bellamy spoke, shattering the oppressive silence.</p>
<p>“How much sleep have you gotten?” She twitched slightly, almost surprised at the deep gravel of Bellamy’s voice.</p>
<p>“Since when?” Her voice was raspy and cold and weak and she wondered why Bellamy sounded sexier while she just sounded like a dying crow.</p>
<p>“How much sleep have you gotten this week?” It was Friday. Bellamy held his breath and watched as Clarke shifted slightly.</p>
<p>“Enough.”</p>
<p>“Dammit Clarke, how much sleep have you gotten?” The sudden raise in Bellamy’s tone made Clarke flinch and she regarded him as a deer might regard a black bear closing in on an impossible hiding place.</p>
<p>“Three hours.”</p>
<p>Bellamy watched her mouth and could see the words come out but it took him a moment to let them sink in.</p>
<p>Sleep terrors were common on the ground, and they’d been common in the sky too. A group of criminals such as the delinquents dealt with crushing family issues and many committed crimes they justified through their hardship.</p>
<p>Committing a crime was one thing, but dealing with the consequences of it afterwards was quite another.</p>
<p>Bellamy had learned to utilize this weakness and play it for a strength – Murphy could never sleep past three am and was thus always put on dawn rotation on the wall. But this – Clarke wasn’t expendable. Above all else she was their healer.</p>
<p>Bellamy didn’t have to be a doctor to understand the effects of serious sleep deprivation – especially when he could see it right in front of him.</p>
<p>Clarke’s eyes were raw and red rimmed but the shadows surrounded them were deep. She was pale and her skin was beginning to dry and crack. She was looking at him quietly, waiting without apprehension for his reaction. It seemed to him that all the fight went out of her as soon as he’d forced her to tell him the truth.</p>
<p>“How long have you been having trouble sleeping? Is this why you passed out the other day?”</p>
<p>“Since Charlotte I guess. And We-,” her voice failed her, and she closed her mouth, clearing her throat noisily. Bellamy’s expression was changing to something horrifyingly akin to pity.</p>
<p>She squirmed a little, turning to lie on her back and avoid his damnably expressive eyes.</p>
<p>“You should have told me.” His voice is so soft she thought she imagined it. But a quick glance over told her she hadn’t.</p>
<p>“It’s not your responsibility. You take on enough on your own.” She was testing out this new theory, this new dependence thing. She had learnt, through the horrifying experiences that has caused her insomnia that to be dependent on someone was to invite tragedy into your life. But she hadn’t been totally successful on that front.</p>
<p>She’d got used to Harper’s quiet, steely presence over the last few weeks, and the other girls unwavering support had touched Clarke in her more lucid moments.</p>
<p>Raven had never asked for dependence, but her actions always spoke louder than words, and Clarke knew she’d be broken without her.</p>
<p>But Bellamy. Bellamy was different. Bellamy was too alive to slip unnoticed into her close inner circle. There was too much fire and tension between them to allow for something as mundane as dependence. She still wasn’t sure where she stood with him. Some days it seemed like they were on the same side and the next day they were shouting at each other from a mile-wide chasm, both equally unwilling to compromise.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to be dependent on Bellamy Blake. Being dependent on him seemed to her to be not only a weakness but a concession. How could they be equals in the field when he knew all her flaws?</p>
<p>“Clarke-,” he tried to say something to her, but she cut him off with a swift shake of her head. Bellamy was brutally chastising himself. How could he not have noticed? How could he have just assumed that Clarke’s behavior the last month was normal?</p>
<p>“Okay. If you won’t tell me for yourself, you’ve got to tell me stuff like that for them.” Trying the sacrificial tack never went wrong with Clarke. Her answering glance pulls Bellamy back from the precipice of complete self-hatred. At least he knows her well enough to match her easy manipulation. But then, being a match for her had never been a problem. Working past being competitors, enemies in the field and uneasy comrades in the command tent, that was harder.</p>
<p>“I need to know that I can count on you when I’m coming in with an injury. These kids, sure they’ve been short with you the last couple days,” that was an understatement. Bellamy was surprised an uprising against his co-leader hadn’t already transpired, and made a mental note to get Miller to find out if anyone was desperate enough to try. He didn’t put anything past these kids. “But Clarke, they need you. You’re our only healer, you’re the brains behind us, the reason we’re still here.”</p>
<p>She was facing him now, giving him her full attention and he was alarmed to see her eyes wet with unshed tears.</p>
<p>“You have a responsibility to look after yourself so that you can look after us. And if you can’t look after yourself you need to tell someone who can.”</p>
<p>Too late he realized the exact nature of the hole he’d dug himself. By the slight quirk of Clarke’s lip it hadn’t gone unnoticed.</p>
<p>“Like you?” her voice was soft, less raspy, slightly fuller.</p>
<p>He spluttered, sat up, punched his pillow a few times for good measure, rustled around on his mattress. Tried to make as much noise as possible.</p>
<p>But she was waiting for an answer. And when he finally gave her his full attention he realized the truth. And he realized that she was so close to giving up. If there was anything Clarke needed right now it was a lifeline. A way to stay grounded.</p>
<p>Bellamy breathed out through his nose, hating this almost as much as when he lost an argument to her. The feeling was remarkably similar. He despised the abandon with which she asked such difficult questions, that even in the state she was in she’d managed to retain. The laser sharp focus had broken through just for a moment and he sensed that she was waiting on tenterhooks for his reply.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Like me.” He finally looked at her and they engaged in an impromptu staring contest, daring eachother to look away first. He lost, of course.</p>
<p>“I need you Clarke. We all need you.” He looked at his hands, rough and calloused from building walls and killing Grounders. “If it’s forgiveness you want, fine. I’ll give that to you. You’re forgiven.”</p>
<p>“No one blames you for Charlotte. That’s on me. And Jaha’s on me as well.” Now she was crying and Bellamy couldn’t look at her.</p>
<p>“You know.” He stopped, opened his mouth, closed it. “My mum used to tell me stories when I couldn’t sleep.”</p>
<p>He glanced at Clarke, anxious to move on from such a touchy subject, to put distance between this new thing that had arisen between them. She looked marginally calmer.</p>
<p>“I remember them all.”</p>
<p>The ghost of a smile flashed across her tired face, and Bellamy realized that he’d been so blind to Clarke the last few weeks. Again he berated himself for not noticing.</p>
<p>The change in her eyes was remarkable, so much so that he hated himself for not realizing that it had altered with the deaths of Charlotte and Wells. Clarke had lost not just her ability to sleep, but her hope.</p>
<p>And the tiny flicker in her eyes made Bellamy wonder how exactly he had forgotten what Clarke looked like. These eyes, these were Clarkes eyes. Filled with hope. And maybe they weren’t overflowing right now, but there was a flicker somewhere in there. And that’s how they’d start. With a flicker.</p>
<p>“So there’s this story about Zeus, who was the god of Thunder, like the King of Olympus, the big cheese…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke woke with a scream, her body propelling herself upwards, heart thundering against her chest. She’d been falling, down the same ravine as Charlotte. Still half asleep, the scream dissolved into muted sobs as Clarke struggled to find reality, forcing open her eyes to see dull grey light filtering through the dropship windows.</p><p>It was morning. More than that. It was mid-morning.</p><p>Clarke didn’t believe it. A cursory glance around the floor told her she was alone, but she remembered Bellamy being there last night. Sure enough, his pallet and sleeping bag were stacked neatly in the corner, but her co-leader was nowhere to be seen.</p><p>And no wonder. With another quick glance outside through one of the vents Clarke estimated that it was nearly midday. She’d never slept that long, not even in the days when she was sleeping properly.</p><p>Urgently, she tumbled out of her sleeping bag and rummaged around in the pile that Raven had left at the end of the bed, trying to find her pants and boots.</p><p>Dim thudding alerted her to movement in the lower levels of the dropship, but Clarke ignored this, intent on dressing and getting outside as soon as possible. She’d already wasted enough of the day.</p><p>The hatch slammed open and a head of brown curls catapulted through. Clarke jumped violently and dropped her pants as Bellamy righted himself and looked around, knife in hand.</p><p>“Clarke! Are you alright? We heard screams.” Clarke felt a dull flush burn through her cheeks as Bellamy stared at her, realized she was half naked and whipped around, bubbling apologies and hastily tripping back down the ladder. She heard him utter a subdued remark to whoever was waiting for him below, presumably Miller, and the thuds of them leaving the dropship lessened as she hurriedly slammed the hatch shut. Nice.</p><p>Great way to start the day. Cursing Raven to the Ark and back, Clarke tugged on her pants with more vehemence than necessary and spent more time than she should splashing her face with the bucket of water at the side of the room.</p><p>She could handle Bellamy in all moods - surly, tempestuous, even overtly flirty. But embarrassed Bellamy? A Bellamy lost for a snarky remark or comment? That was new. And gross. God knows he had encountered more than his fair share of half-naked women in his time and she hated the way part of her brain wondered why he should act so surprised that she would inevitably fall into that category. They lived on top of each other, it was going to happen one day. She frowned, unwillingly to allow this new idea of him jostle the old ones out of her head. The boy was an idiot. Now was not the time to assume he had a shred of decency in him.</p><p> </p><p>*       *        *       *</p><p> </p><p>Clarke heard the keening sound around dusk, as Bellamy and Miller were standing around the gate, pacing anxiously and waiting for the scouting party to return.</p><p>It had been a hard day.</p><p>Delia and Ty had had a screaming match across the fire that had started when Ty “accidentally” knocking over Delia’s food into the mud that had rapidly engulfed the camp since the torrential rains last week.</p><p>Murphy had punched another kid in the face, without any due provocation.</p><p>Bellamy and Octavia had fought again in hushed and irritated whispers, presumably about some sort of custody arrangement. Octavia had not taken kindly to being told that she had to rest after her extensive injury and it was funny to Clarke, in the detached way that she viewed everything now, to watch Bellamy struggle with the same argument he put Clarke through every time he got injured.</p><p>Maya was still acting as though Clarke would creep through the night and assassinate her, and even though she clung to Bellamy’s assurance that these kids needed her it was hard to find evidence of the fact.</p><p>She found out yesterday that people were going to Harper to help mend their injuries because they were too scared or shitty to face Clarke. Though Harper had immediately notified her, Clarke couldn’t help feeling bereft and unwanted, a lone hermit rejected by the world.</p><p>But when she heard the keening all of her thoughts fell away. She knew what that sound was.</p><p>Bellamy’s head snapped up, a shadow of confusion darting across his face, wondering why the sound was familiar. Clarke gripped Harper’s arm as the girl tried to pass her with a bucket of water.</p><p>“Come with me.”</p><p>Harper followed with no hesitation, breaking into a jog as Clarke sprinted towards the gate, speeding up when she saw Bellamy turn slowly, hearing their footsteps behind him.</p><p>They were out the gate before he could stop them and his yells followed them into the darkening twilight.</p><p>“There’s a woman somewhere.” Clarke managed, through spurts of breath as she wove her way through the thick tree roots and fallen branches, scraping her hand slipping over mossy undergrowth.</p><p>The keening turned into a scream of pain, and the girls both flinched at the rawness cutting through the forest.</p><p>They ran for another few minutes, pausing every time the noise stopped, until they both ran into empty space and tumbled down a concealed slit between two massive tree roots. They righted themselves and immediately Clarke started forward.</p><p>She was a Grounder.</p><p>She reminded Clarke of the fierce big cats that she’d seen on the Ark documentaries. The ones who continue to fight even long after they knew they would die. It took a few moments for Clarkes eyes to adjust to the gloom and realize that she was cradling her swollen belly.</p><p>“She’s pregnant…” Harper breathed, swallowing tightly.</p><p>The Grounder snarled at them, swiping a long, deadly looking knife, but she didn’t move from wher she was crouched, and a ripple of pain began to cross her face.</p><p>“Oh God, she’s in labour.”</p><p>Clarke started forward, only to be met with the side of the Grounder’s knife, ripping her calf open. She stumbled, swearing, as Harper dragged her back.</p><p>“Why is she out here? Why isn’t she with her clan?” Clarke ripped her bottom of her shirt, now becoming more a crop top, and bound her leg tightly together, Harper dropping to her knees and knotting the tourniquet.</p><p>“What do we do Clarke?” Clarke looked over at the woman, who was trying so hard to maintain a threatening composure, while evidently in excruciating pain. She was biting down on her lip so hard blood was dribbling down her chin, and her forehead was bathed in sweat.</p><p>“We need to help her. She looks like she’s been running – maybe she’s not welcome with her tribe.”</p><p>Clarke advanced again, hands up, ignoring Harper’s urgent pleas to retreat. The Grounder made to lunge at her with the knife, but half way forward screamed in agony and lurched back, dropping it to the ground and clutching at her belly.</p><p>Harper darted forward and grabbed the knife from the forest floor, feeling a momentary flood of relief, intense enough to prompt a wash of cold sweat to prickle across her brow.</p><p>“Harper, we’ve got to move her. She’s not safe here, she can’t give birth in the middle of the forest.”</p><p>Harper looked at Clarke wildly, her relief swiftly cut short. She noticed with a sinking heart the determined glare and jut of the chin which signaled that Clarke was going to be stubborn.</p><p>The Grounder seemed to realise they weren’t a threat, or maybe she just didn’t care – she was spacing out, eyes rolling back in her head every time a new contraction hit. Harper privately thought that the woman was in no condition to move, but Clarke had stepped forward, murmuring a low stream of encouragements. The woman couldn’t understand them, but she locked eyes with Clarke, and Clarke saw the fight leave her, knew the Grounder was going to allow her to help.</p><p>She held her hand out, and the woman grabbed it with bone crushing strength, letting a shriek issue from behind clenched teeth as she doubled down on another contraction.</p><p>Harper started forward, looking to Clarke for instructions. She was alert, eyes shining with purpose, and Harper thanked whatever god might be listening. Just for now, the old Clarke was shining through.</p><p>Clarke opened her mouth to say something, but shut it abruptly as they heard shouts and loud footfalls coming towards them at an alarming speed. Before Harper could object, Clarke snatched the knife from her and stepped over the grounder, <em>in front</em> of the Grounder, holding it tightly.</p><p>The woman moaned, vaguely realizing there was a threat, but helpless to do anything about it. She seemed to be rapidly worsening, and unable to help herself, Harper dropped to her knees and put her arms around her, taking the hand Clarke had dropped in her own.</p><p>“Harper,” Clarke hissed, keeping her voice quiet, eyes flicking at the oncoming forest. “Try and keep her quiet.”</p><p>The Grounder’s bottom lip was shredded, and she was trying so hard to keep from making a sound, knowing instinctively that she must be quiet. Harper looked around wildly, grabbing a thick piece of tree bark from the ground and ripping some of her shirt to wind around it.</p><p>She gave it to the woman, indicating that she should put it in her mouth to bite down on it. The grounder cooperated easily, and Harper realized that she must be used to it – as far as she was aware, there was no anesthetic on the ground.</p><p>They sat in silence, in darkness now that dusk had truly descended into night, waiting. Their breathing sounded harsh, and the woman’s moaning, muffled through the piece of bark, nevertheless sounded like shouting. They could hear the people coming closer, and Harper hoped with all her heart that they were from the dropship.</p><p>“Clarke!”</p><p>The girls had a second of warning before Bellamy jumped down between the roots, rifle immediately cocked and aimed at the Grounder, who recognized the threat and understandably snarled.</p><p>Harper tightened her arm around the woman, tried to put her other arm across her belly, but the Grounder grabbed her hand in a vicious grip, nails digging into Harper’s wrist, glaring at her with narrow suspicion.</p><p>“Bellamy, <em>put the gun down</em>.” Harper could hear the fury emanating from Clarke’s voice, though she kept it low and controlled. Bellamy’s dark eyes were taking in the scene in front of him, resting on Harper and the Grounder, and staring for too long at the gash in Clarke’s leg, which was still oozing blood.</p><p>“Did she do that to you?” His voice was just as menacing as Clarke’s and Harper reflected on the fucked way her friends showed concern. She could see Clarke’s back go rigid, saw her flex her fingers and reposition her grip on the knife, which was not so subtly held out against Bellamy.</p><p>Raven had told Harper what she’d told Bellamy to do – and true, the last four nights, Bellamy had slunk into the dropship after most of the delinquents had passed out, and made his way up to the top level, which Clarke had made her own.</p><p>No one spoke about it, mainly because Murphy had tried the second morning after Clarke had emerged not ten minutes after Bellamy, and Bellamy had punched him in the gut as he passed on his way to the wall.</p><p>Murphy had sulked for the rest of the day, glowering at anyone who looked at him.</p><p>Harper watched her two leaders face off with each other, Bellamy resolutely not lowering his gun and Clarke clutching the knife so hard her knuckles were white.  They were broken in the way they displayed concern, broken in the way that they cared for each other – yet Harper knew that this itself was a sign of respect. Had anyone else held a knife against Bellamy Blake he would have done everything in his considerable power to knock them out. And Bellamy was keeping his gun up, but trained on the Grounder, not Clarke, though his eyes were watching her – the silence was deep with their unspoken words.</p><p>The Grounder was gripping Harper’s wrist so hard that she could feel her skin break under the woman’s fingernails, and she wrenched her eyes away from Clarke and Bellamy and focused instead on the way the Grounder was shaking, heaving breath and stuttering through a low, guttural moan.</p><p>“Clarke…” Harper could see the woman’s face start to screw up, knew deep in her bones that this baby was coming now. “Clarke, I think it’s happening.”</p><p>She heard Bellamy snap something at Miller, who she should have realized would have followed Bellamy out into the dark. He was standing somewhere out of sight, perhaps guarding against the ever-looming threat of hostile Grounders.</p><p>There was a dull thud and Harper saw Clarke drop the knife out of the corner of her eye, and then she was kneeling next to the Grounder, sharp blue eyes assessing the situation.</p><p>“Bellamy, give me your jacket.”</p><p>Harper expected Bellamy to protest, didn’t realise that while she was watching the grounder, they must have come to some non-verbal agreement, or maybe Clarke just won the staring contest. Whatever it was, Bellamy shucked his jacket with no protest, and instead of handing it to Clarke, walked closer to the Grounder, who was midway through a contraction and in no way able to scramble away from him. He moved her legs gently and placed the jacket over the ground.</p><p>“Clarke, do you have this?”</p><p>Harper watch Clarke as the girl glanced up, saw the faint flush dance across her cheeks. And Harper wondered what it meant.</p><p>“Yes. Go.”</p><p>Bellamy nodded, turned and pulled himself up over the edge of one of the tree roots. Harper barely had time to register Bellamy and Miller’s low conversation before the Grounder started to scream. It was more than a scream though. It was a sound that came from brute force, brute power of will. Her eyes were screwed shut but when she opened them at the end of a particularly heavy contraction, gasping for breath, Harper saw blood vessels burst across the whites.</p><p>Clarke was behind Harper, and she could hear cloth ripping as she freed the woman from her pants, but Harper couldn’t look, felt frozen in fear, frozen to the ground of this green hell. Holding the hand of their enemy as she struggled through birthing life.</p><p>The birth itself was long, drawn out. Arduous.</p><p>Harper later wondered why they managed to get through hours of screaming on the forest floor without getting attacked by a veritable army of grounders, was sure Bellamy and Murphy would have been overrun, but the forest remained a silent backdrop to the woman’s agony.</p><p>After a particularly long and grueling contraction, Harper heard Clarke speak softly behind her, didn’t twig exactly what was happening. Her eyes were fixed on the Grounder woman, her dark skin shining with sweat, eyes barely open. Harper’s arm was slick with her own blood from where the grounder’s fingernails had continued to tear at her skin.</p><p>“Harper.” Clarke spoke again, louder this time. Harper started, twisted around, took the bundle of bloody jacket and live flesh and realized she was holding the newborn. The Grounder woman managed to open her eyes, and the ghost of an exhausted smile flashed across her face. Harper held the baby closer to its mother, sighed with relief when it started fussing. The woman was too weak to hold the baby on her own but she murmured some words in her own language that Harper interpreted as thanks.</p><p>“Bellamy. I-we need you.” Clarke’s correction was soft enough that only Harper heard, and because she was kind and good, she decided to forget it, trusting that whatever was going on between her leaders had to be better than what it had been.</p><p>Bellamy jumped down into the pit, crouched quickly next to Clarke, who looked up at him with concern. Harper saw their shoulders touch, knew both of them were aware of it, and yet neither moved away.</p><p>“I think we should try and get her back to the Dropship. I can’t see what I’m doing down here, and we have hot water and supplies there.”</p><p>“Has she birthed the afterbirth?” Bellamy’s tone was clinical, professional even, and Harper remembered the rumors that he had delivered Octavia when she was born in secret.</p><p>Clarke nodded, and Bellamy stood, one hand gripping her shoulder.</p><p>“Miller and I will carry her if you and Harper cover.” He glanced over at Harper, still holding the baby. She’d given the baby her finger to suck on so it wouldn’t make noise, terrified of alerting the Grounders that she knew must be nearby. Perhaps they might not respond to a woman screaming, but a baby's cry was unusual enough to get attention.</p><p>“I’ll cover. Harper will take the baby.” Clarke’s voice was strong, and she stood quickly, dusting her knees slightly and bending down to tie Bellamy’s jacket around the Grounder’s waist. Bellamy looked put out, gaze switching between the baby in Harper’s arms and Clarke. Harper knew he could care less about the baby, knew he wasn’t happy that Clarke would be first in line of fire.</p><p>Clarke didn’t notice.</p><p>Miller jumped down next to them, handed his gun to Clarke and grabbed the Grounder under her arms.</p><p>They managed to drag her out of the pit, able to work quickly because she put up no fight. Harper could see her slipping in and out of consciousness, made sure to keep the baby in her sight as the moved as fast as they could through the forest.</p><p>Bellamy kept glancing back at Clarke, who didn’t notice, eyes moving through the trees, gun up and cocked.</p><p>They could see the Dropship through the trees, torches lit along the wall when the baby started crying. Harper didn’t know how loudly babies could cry, marveled at the sheer sound that came out of a thing so small. And then cursed as she remembered why they were trying to be quiet.</p><p>Bellamy reacted immediately, Miller knowing what he wanted without words. He took the Grounder into his arms, carrying her like Harper had daydreamed her husband might carry her once she got married. He called to Harper, hissed at her to move, as Bellamy ran past her, slinging his gun up to cover Clarke.</p><p>Harper thought they would make it, was at the gates when she heard the Grounder horn. The woman whimpered, eyes opening in fear, but she couldn’t hold it together for long enough to struggle, and Miller made it through with Harper on his heels.</p><p>“Shut the gates!” Harper turned in shock, baby still bawling.</p><p>“Miller, they’re still out there!”</p><p>Jasper and Monty had run over, helping Miller get the Grounder woman into the Dropship as the delinquents stood by, eyes and mouths open in shock.</p><p>“Bellamy told me to shut the gates once we got in – take care of the baby!” he disappeared past the curtain, and Harper couldn’t think past the baby’s screaming to interpret Bellamy’s plan.</p><p>As she looked out into the night sky, all she could do was pray that they would be safe, together.</p>
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